Memories

            Memories are funny things. We all remember things we wish we could forget, while forgetting things we wish we remembered. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had someone come up to me that remembered me, so clearly, I should know who they are, but I don’t. This can be really embarrassing, although in some cases not so much.

            There was the man who came into my work one evening and remembered me from junior high. Given that at that point, I was in my early 30 years, it had really been a long time since junior high. Add in the fact that I’d only attended that junior high for 6 weeks at best, it’s easily understandable that I wouldn’t have remembered him.

            I suspect he remembered me because of a memorable incident that happened during my short time there.

            One of the most popular guys, if not the most popular guy in school had been bet somewhere in the vicinity of $100 that he wouldn’t kiss me. Back then that was a pretty good sum of money for a 9^th grader. Well, he did it. He held up a piece of paper between our faces and kissed me. Which is why I suspect the man who walked into my work that night remembered me so clearly.

            The worst one though was the guy at the gas station I used to buy gas at. I walked in to pay after pumping my gas one night only to have the clerk take one look at me and tell me that he remembered me. Unfortunately, I didn’t remember him.

            When I politely tried to tell him, “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you,” he got upset. I mean he started yelling, “Don’t give me that!”

            Repeatedly. I just stood there like a deer in the headlights not knowing what to do. Frankly, I was uncomfortable. To make matters worse, there wasn’t another Chevron station within reasonable driving distance, so it wasn’t like I could just take my business elsewhere. If I could have, I would have. Immediately!

            I don’t remember now where he knew me from, if he told me. I was too shocked by his behavior to remember more than his reaction to my lack of memory about him.

            The other embarrassing memory lapses are when friends and family members ask, “Do you remember. . .”

            Then they’ll talk about a specific incident as if I should when I don’t. To be honest, I hate that. Especially since I’m still young enough that I shouldn’t be having memory issues of that sort.

            The other thing I hate about not having memories of incidents that others remember is knowing that there are things I’d like to remember, but can’t.

            I know I have spaces in my memories because I seem to remember a lot of the bad things that happened, but very few of the good things. I know my life hasn’t been perfect, whose is? So, why do I seem to remember only the bad things?

            I finally realized that although it’s hard to not remember as many of the good things I’m sure happened, remembering the bad things is a form of protection.

            I’ll let you get your jaw off the ground while I repeat that. “Remembering the bad things is a form of protection.”

            The old saying, “Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it” also applies to us as people. I mean think about it. If we forget the bad things that happened to us or the mistakes we made in our lives, then we’re going to repeat those things. Or worse yet, trust the wrong people.

            If you read my “Me Too” blog, then you may have some idea of what I’m talking about. If I were to forget that a boy I had a crush on raped me or that my mother’s second husband abused me, I’d be open to trusting them again. That would not be good because then it could happen all over again.

            Not to mention that if I forgot all the mistakes and stupid things I’ve ever done, I’d probably be repeating them. Actually, I know I’d be repeating them. Then I’d make a mental note to myself not to do so and hope I remembered.

            Remembering the good things is nice and I truly wish I remembered more of them, but I find that I have an appreciation for remembering the bad things and mistakes I made. They taught me more about who I can’t/shouldn’t trust as well as what not to do in the future.

            Before I end this, I’d like to add that short term memory is important too. My youngest brother had short term memory issues due to a head injury that happened to him as a teenager. It’s amazing how much we need our short term memory in everyday life. I remember him telling me that one place he’d worked at, he’d ask the manager a question, but not get an answer. I suspect he got the answer, but quickly forgot it before he could act on it. The poor kid had 13 jobs in one year. He couldn’t hold any of them because of his lack of short term memory.

            So, final take away, appreciate your memories. They’re not always pleasant, but they can enhance your life.